Of Thieves and Honor
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: A collection of drabbles pertaining to the relationship between a certain knight and his squire. As suggested in the summary, Michael/Fisk.
1. Awake

**Exactly what it says on the tin. Drabbles of this lovely pairing. These are extremely fun to write, so this will most likely be updated pretty quickly.**

_Title: Awake_  
_Summary: Michael doesn't let Fisk know that he's very much awake._  
_Words: 513_

Michael doesn't let Fisk know that he's very much awake.

He knew Fisk would be there, in the night, putting the cream on the burning scars on his back, but he hadn't expected to feel it. Fisk's hands are soft and gentle on his back, like he's afraid to press too hard, and he can feel each finger running across the red marks.

He doesn't want Fisk to know that he's awake. That would ruin it.

_There's a certain intimacy to seeing the way a person acts when they think you don't notice, _Michael thinks. He makes a note to try to catch Rosamund like this, sometime.

His squire isn't making snarky remarks as he usually is and Michael can't even see his face, but so much emotion is conveyed just through his touch.

Fisk's hand moves across Michael's shoulder blades, although there are no scars there. Just feeling across his skin, skin against skin. He can almost feel Fisk smiling in the way his hands relax suddenly.

Michael can't fathom what kind of smile it is. But it's a smile. And seeing Fisk smile makes Michael smile into the stale, musty sheets. He hates this place, he hates the fact that they ended up here, but he loves this moment.

Fisk draws his hand away from the small of Michael's back and he considers feigning a movement of sleep to get Fisk to put them back. But they move down, back to the scars that they're supposed to be cleaning.

Those scars. The scars of an honorable-or, as Fisk might say-foolish man. He'd gotten so used to the idea of being honorable that it was almost natural to him, to stand up when he didn't need to. Do what others need, not what you want.

That was the difference between him and Fisk. Fisk did what was best for him and the people closest to him. Michael attempted to do what was best for those he didn't even know.

He was still trying to figure out whether that made him honorable or stupid.

Fisk reached over for some more salve and ran his fingers down the largest scar. The touch was soothing, like that of a mother to a child. Michael had never anyone touch him like that-not since he was so awfully young. Not even when he was younger. He hadn't been one of those children that everyone pampered. He was a fourth son, after all.

Fisk ran his hand down another scarless patch of skin, perhaps just because he could. Michael was somewhat flattered that his squire wanted to steal a moment just to feel his skin.

The touch made him struggle to keep his eyes open-although he wasn't sure whether his eyes were open or not, he saw nothing but black with his face pressed against the makeshift pillow.

He wondered whether Fisk was getting any sleep. A part of him wanted to jerk away from Fisk's hand and tell the squire to get some sleep, he would be fine without him.

But the truth was, he wouldn't be.


	2. Stolen

**Author's Note: Thank you to the Fanfic Lurker for the lovely review. I was quite flattered by it. **

**Disclaimer: The Knight and Rogue series belongs to Hilari Bell.**

_Title: Stolen_  
_Summary: Romance and humor have never been Michael's strong points_  
_Words: 484_

Fisk was saddling up Tipple when Michael suddenly blurted out, "Fisk, you're a thief."

"Correction, Noble Sir, I _was _a thief," Fisk said irritably. "I am not currently a thief."

"Yes, you are." Michael's broad smile was not one you would usually see on the face of someone accusing their squire of thievery. Then again, Michael was happy quite a lot, and especially at inappropriate times.

"I don't do that anymore, Michael. You know that." Fisk tightened the girth on Tipple's saddle, causing her to stomp in annoyance. Fisk swung his foot away from the horse's oncoming hoof.

"Fine." Michael still had that _stupid _grin on his face. He then proceeded to swing himself up onto Chant, looking like he was having the time of his life.

"Why are you so accursed happy?"

"I have a great many things to be happy about."

"If you say so, Noble Sir." Fisk mounted Tipple and dug his heel into her side, causing her to break into a trot.

Michael was nearly left in the dust as Chant refused to move. "Fisk! Fisk, wait!" The squire rolled his eyes and stopped Tipple.  
Eventually both horses were moving and the two boys were riding alongside each other.

It was funny, how Michael rode. He almost looked like a lady on a horse, except without the whole awkward sidesaddle position. He rode unnaturally gently, but, now that Fisk thought about it, many things Michael did were unnaturally gentle.

"So, Noble Sir, what have I done to lead you to believe that I'm a thief and a vagabond?"

"Well, you've stolen something quite precious to me."

"Pray tell, what is this thing?"

"Guess." Michael had a childish smile on his face, and Fisk wouldn't admit how much he liked that smile.

"This is idiotic." Michael pouted, and Fisk resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I haven't stolen anything precious to you."

"Well..." Michael started.

"Do go on."

Michael took one hand off of Chant's reins, probably not a wise decision, and laid a hand on Fisk's shoulder. "You've stolen my heart."

Fisk stared at him blankly for a few minutes, not sure what to make of that, and tried to find it in him to glare but then burst out laughing. "Michael," he said between giggles, "Michael, that was _terrible."_


	3. Not in the Least

_Title: Not in the Least_  
_Summary: Rosamund stumbles upon something that isn't the least bit surprising._  
_Words: 428_

Frankly, Rosamund wasn't at all surprised.

She'd wanted to wake Michael, for it was getting late, but the sight before her wasn't something she'd want to disturb. Fisk and Michael had curled up together on the bed, Michael with his arms wrapped around Fisk and True lying on top of the two of them.

It was no secret that Michael harbored affections for Rosamund, she could see it in just about everything he did.  
But looking at the two boys here, Rosamund felt that Michael had moved on. And she was happy, to be honest. There'd been a lingering guilt in her chest every time she thought of the look on Michael's face every time she spoke of Rudy.

She was about to creep back into bed, so as not to wake the sleeping knight and squire, but on her way there she tripped, falling onto the bed with an _oof _sound.

This cause True to look up lazily, and then jump off of Michael and Fisk. Rosamund put a hand over her mouth, embarrassed to have probably woken up her companions.

Michael opened his eyes, which soon traveled to Rosamund. "Rosa..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you!"

"Oh, no, it's perfectly alright. Keep your voice a bit quieter, though, if you please, so as not to wake Fisk." Michael's face was a pink color, but Rosamund didn't see what their was to be embarrassed about.

Fisk blinked sleepily. "Huh?"

"Shh, love." Michael ran a hand through his squire's hair, causing him to close his eyes once again. "I...I can explain later, Rosa."

Rosamund smiled. "No, no, there's nothing wrong..."

"We were...cold, you know. And, you know..."

Fisk, who appeared to be fully awake now, laughed lightly. "Oh, come now, Michael. You didn't just want to lie with me because you were cold."

Michael blushed, and Rosamund had to admit that she found the whole situation rather adorable. "Oh, this is like in all of the novels I've read!"

"Rosa, you've got to promise not to tell anyone about Fisk and I, though. I don't think anyone here would like it too much."

"Oh, I promise!" Rosamund beamed and Michael remembered why he'd fallen in love with her. Rosamund was so kind and so beautiful and so witty. But yet, looking down at the usually glowering, dark-haired boy in his arms, Michael couldn't help but think that he'd found something better.

**i don't even know anymore **


End file.
